


the cat's in the well and the wolf is looking down

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Cats, Crack Treated Seriously, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Poor Theon, Robb Stark is a Gift, Threesome - F/M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“What’s even going on here?” He asks, voice low, as he kneels next to his direwolf. Grey Wind does raise his tail enough that Robb can take a good look at the cat, and gods, the poor thing looks emaciated. There are scars all over its side, the fur has been ripped in points, one of the paws is bleeding and it’s thin, and its fur is dirty with dust. Too bad, because it’s the kind of black that looks almost blue in the sunlight, and when the cat looks at him with two large, dark eyes that somehow seem familiar for some reason Robb cannot quite pinpoint, it looks scared out of its mind.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Gods,” he says under his breath, reaching forward to see if the cat might bite him - it doesn’t. The moment Robb brushes his fingers along its neck, it almost curls against them. “Well,” he says, “I guess you’re coming with. One cat won’t be that much of a hindrance.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the cat's in the well and the wolf is looking down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FeatheredShadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatheredShadow/gifts).



> Er. So. Tumblr prompts. We have _pre-Red Wedding, Theon gets turned into a cat and escapes. Throbb or gen, whatever works best for you :)_. I absolutely have NO bloody clue of how darned crack fic (in theory) with cat!Theon ended up into HEY WHY NOT THREESOMES but I guess I should stop asking myself that kind of question. This is probably way less crack than it looks like - sure af it's not *fun*, but I tried guys. Nothing belongs to me and the title is from Bob Dylan bless his neverending catalogue of possible titles I can steal from. I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE.

The first thing Robb thinks when he finally finds Grey Wind after looking for him for a good hour - how can a direwolf _hide_  in Riverrun, it’s hardly the kind of castle where someone wouldn’t see it at some point - and sees that he’s kind of curled around a _cat_ , is, admittedly, _what in the seven hells is going on here_.

He isn’t even sure Grey Wind ever paid attention to the few stray cats that ran around Winterfell back in the day, but he surely is doing it with _this_  one, which is pretty much curled on itself pressing against Grey Wind’s side.

“What’s even going on here?” He asks, voice low, as he kneels next to his direwolf. Grey Wind does raise his tail enough that Robb can take a good look at the cat, and gods, the poor thing looks _emaciated_. There are scars all over its side, the fur has been _ripped_  in points, one of the paws is bleeding and it’s thin, and its fur is dirty with dust. Too bad, because it’s the kind of black that looks almost blue in the sunlight, and when the cat looks at him with two large, dark eyes that _somehow_  seem familiar for some reason Robb cannot quite pinpoint, it looks scared out of its mind.

“Gods,” he says under his breath, reaching forward to see if the cat might bite him - it doesn’t. The moment Robb brushes his fingers along its neck, it almost curls against them. “Well,” he says, “I guess you’re coming with. One cat won’t be that much of a hindrance.” He moves back a bit as Grey Wind stands up - the cat tries to as well, but the moment the bleeding paw touches the ground it falls back down at once.

“Hey, don’t,” he says, and he feels like an idiot because while he  _knows_  Grey Wind understands him, but for other reasons, there’s no way a bloody _cat_  would. Still, it’s making _him_  feel somewhat better about it, so.

He picks it up gingerly and he’s _very_  surprised when it - _he_ , definitely a _he_  - pretty much cuddles up against his chest. Every cat he ever tried to _cuddle_  in Winterfell would try to scratch at him, and they all hissed - once one of them bit him, for that matter. This one - absolutely not, though.

Well then, he’s not going to complain about not getting mauled, he decides, and brings the cat back with him.

–

When they give the poor thing something to eat, he finishes within - moments, pretty much. The cat doesn’t stop until Robb’s fed him all of his leftovers from his dinner, and it _still_ looks emaciated. He feels ridiculous calling a maester for it, and so he ends up cleaning the would on the cat’s paw himself - it doesn’t look infected, at least.

“Where did you find it?” His mother asks when she comes into his solar to find him bent on the task.

“I didn’t, Grey Wind did. He was… protecting it? I don’t know, but I figured there’d be no harm in bringing it in, if Grey Wind trusted it.”

She gives Robb a curt nod, says that if his direwolf trusts it then there’s no reason to set it free, and leaves. Robb pets the cat’s left side, just above the part where fur was torn out.

The cat purrs.

Gods, how badly did its owners treat it before and mostly, _how long_  did it walk to reach Riverrun? Because there are scratches all over its legs.

Robb leaves him to sleep against Grey Wind and goes back to his own room - he’s probably overthinking it.

–

“Poor thing,” Jeyne says when she finally sees the cat the next day - she had come up to the solar while he was trying to pen some letter to try and treat with Lord Walder all over again and had seen him with the cat in his lap. He hadn’t even tried to dislodge it the moment it had pretty much climbed all over Robb’s leg the moment he sat down. “How did you find it?”

“I didn’t, Grey Wind did,” Robb says, petting it absentmindedly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one this well-behaved, even if I don’t think it’s for good reasons.”

Jeyne moves next to him taking a seat, looking at the cat more in-depth. “Gods, who does _that_  to an animal?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not someone I would want to meet,” Robb replies truthfully.

Jeyne reaches forward and runs her hand over the cat’s head - he purrs all over again. “And such a - _nice_  one,” Jeyne says, petting its head all over again. “You’re right, I’ve never seen one so - docile?”

“I’m surprised he even trusted me, but what do I know, maybe he saw that Grey Wind did.” He shrugs and goes back to his letter while Jeyne takes the cat off his lap - it goes very much willingly as she runs a hand over its back.

“Have you even named him yet?”

Robb shakes his head. “I didn’t really think about it. Maybe I should, but - eh, I never was much good at naming things. Arya always used to say Grey Wind was unimaginative,” he sighs, wondering where did his sister even end up. He hopes she isn’t dead, really, and if the cat whines a bit as Jeyne pets him all over again, he doesn’t pay attention to it.

“Come on, you’ll think of something.”

“Well,” Robb sighs, “he’s got scars all over. Obviously he went through a lot to get to this point.” He wonders how old that poor thing is - definitely a few years. He shrugs. “Knights have scars.”

“They do.”

“Black knight?”

Jeyne thinks about it a moment. “It’s… _not_  that imaginative but I think it should do.” The cat whines in something that to Robb’s tired ears sounds like disagreement.

He’s probably imagining it.

–

When he’s finally penned and sent the raven - they can only hope for the best now, or he’ll never have enough men to even keep on going with this war - he leaves the solar, figuring that maybe he could find Grey Wind and take a stroll in the gardens. He thinks he needs a moment on his own - he tells the Blackfish, who agrees and says he’ll tell anyone seeking audiences to wait.

He finds both Grey Wind and Black Knight in the gardens, still curled against each other.

“Hey,” he says, kneeling down and running his fingertips over the back of Black Knight’s neck, “do you think you might want to take a walk with us?”

The cat almost literally _jumps_  into his arms.

Robb guesses that he _really_  was treated badly before if he’s this attached after so little time, and brings him along as he follows Grey Wind into the godswood.

–

It’s been a week and no answer has been received. His bannermen aren’t too happy that they haven’t been told what’s their next move, and Robb wishes he had a plan already, but he can’t come up with one if he doesn’t know whether the Freys might come around.

He also has no news from Winterfell - Lord Bolton did say that his bastard was taking care of it, but he still has no idea of how that came through, and he’s looking down at maps feeling like he could just go to sleep right here and right now for how tired he is when Black Knight comes into the room, slowly. It obviously hurts when he puts his hurt paw against the ground, and he walks up to Robb’s chair.

When he looks up at Robb, he seems almost _understanding_? Gods, Robb must be seeing things.

He stands up, locks the door and sits down on the ground next to the cat, he really can’t stand looking at that desk anymore - a moment later, Black Knight’s walking over and climbing on his lap, still looking at him with those dark, sad eyes which seem fully of sympathy. Robb sighs and pets him behind the ears, and he’s glad to see that a bit of fur is regrowing. Gods, it would be gorgeous if it didn’t have all those blank spots.

“I’m not even sure I want to know what happened to you,” Robb sighs, “but you must be a tough little shit for having come this far, huh?”

For a moment it seems like the cat shakes its head.

But no, he’s probably imagining it. “Sure as the seven hells you went through a lot. Well, _that’_ s not happening anymore,” he says, his hands brushing along the newly growing fur.

–

Then Lord Karstark frees the damned prisoners.

After he’s done dealing with _everyone else_ , Robb climbs up to the solar and slams the door closed, looking down at his bloodied hands, wanting to _cry_  for how unfair it had to be, and that’s when he hears something pressing up against his leg.

It’s Black Knight. He looks _worried_.

“I’m fine,” he says, even if he knows the cat _can’t fucking understand him_. “I mean, I will be.”

And then for the first time Black Knight _hisses_  as Robb moves down to the floor and he moves his head against Robb’s bloodied knuckles.

“I should wash it off, I guess,” Robb sighs. “Just not now -”

He stops dead in his tracks when Black Knight starts _licking it off_. Robb kind of wants to cry, here.

“Look at you. _My_  knight, huh?”

For a moment, he’s _really_  sure that the cat’s eyes went downright horrified.

Gods, he really must be losing it if he thinks a cat can be horrified, never mind that it wasn’t the kind of statement that should elicit such a reaction.

–

Then the Freys answer.

“It says they could be satisfied if my uncle marries a daughter of Lord Walder’s in my stead,” Robb says - there’s just his mother and the Blackfish standing around the table, looking down at the raven. “I imagine he won’t be happy -”

Black Knight _hisses_  loudly enough that all three of them hear.

Robb ignores him. “- but if it’s enough, it’s not that much of a price to pay, is -”

And then Black Knight is right next to him and scratching at the table while hissing. He has never done that before.

“What’s going on?” His mother asks.

“I don’t know,” Robb says, kneeling down. “He looks upset. He’s never been until now? Hey, it’s all right. Nothing’s happening.”

He picks the cat up, figuring that maybe he’ll calm down if Robb’s holding him, whatever’s going on.

“And Lord Bolton sent a missive - he says he’s going to Harrenhaal and then here, the business at Winterfell should be solved -”

And _then_  he feels nails scratching against his wrist.

Not enough to bleed, but it’s _definitely_  his cat.

Right. Twice it might have been a coincidence, but _thrice_  -

“Robb,” his great-uncle says, “are you aware that your cat is _shaking its head_?

“He’s not -” Robb starts.

“Robb, he _is_.”

Then, Grey Wind barges into the room and starts growing softly before snatching the letter from Robb’s hand and pretty much spitting it on the other side of the room.

“What -” Robb starts.

“Robb,” his mother says, “I don’t know what’s going on with the cat, but I know that your _wolf_  is - you shouldn’t _not_  trust him. Something is wrong.”

Something is _very_  wrong, all right. Robb looks down at Black Knight, who’s not scratching at him anymore, but is instead glancing up at him with an expression that’s downright pleading.

Yes.

Something’s wrong.

And Robb thinks he knows what he should do, even if until now - he doesn’t want to do it. He knows he’s not supposed to. Kings shouldn’t - _shouldn’t_ , and he tends to lose control if it happens, the few times it did he’s had enough proof, but -

“Mother,” he says, “I need to be alone.”

“What -”

“Please. Lock the door on your way out and tell everyone that I can’t be disturbed until I - until I walk out of this room.”

“Robb, what’s -”

“I can’t explain, but I have to. Please?”

“Very well,” she says wearily, and both her and the Blackfish leave.

Robb looks at Grey Wind as he listens to the door lock, then sits down on the chair and motions for him to come over.

Well then. Time to find out what’s really going on.

He closes his eyes, reaches for Grey Wind, and _slips in_.

–

It’s not that being _inside_  Grey Wind makes him understand anything as Black Knight meows, but -

But he doesn’t have to.

He’s _in_  for barely long enough to smell the cat with Grey Wind’s senses, and thing is, if he’s inside Grey Wind he knows what his direwolf knows, and that smell -

That smell -

He opens his own eyes, looks down at the cat who is, in turn, looking everywhere but at him.

Robb kneels down, puts a hand on his face softly, turning it so that he can look at the cat in the eyes.

“ _Theon_?” He whispers, because _that_  was the smell Grey Wind had recognized, and then he has to close his eyes because the room is suddenly filled with a bright, bright flash of lightening.

–

He opens his eyes again, and -

Good gods.

He’s kneeling in front of Theon, who’s currently scrambling with his back up against the wall, is holding a left hand _without a finger_  to his chest, is dressed in ragged clothes, has a few streaks of white in his hair and whose arms are covered in scars.

_Flaying_  scars.

“What in the seven hells does this mean?” Robb asks, not knowing if he should punch the guy or be horrified at how he looks like. _What the hell happened_?

“The wedding is a trap,” Theon says, and he sounds - his voice sounds scratched. As if he hasn’t talked in a long, long time. “And Roose Bolton is plotting to betray you.”

“ _And how would you know_? And how are you _here_?”

Theon laughs, but it doesn’t sound amused at all. “I was at the Dreadfort,” he answers, and Robb notices, to his own horror, that there are a couple of teeth visibly missing.

–

He doesn’t even know how to take the story Theon tells him.

_My father refused the alliance. I took Winterfell to prove him that I could and that I wasn’t - at your beck and call._

_Ramsay Snow was there, and I didn’t know it was him._

_Your brothers escaped and he suggested I kill two commoner children so that I wouldn’t lose face and I was so stupid that I listened to him._

_He backstabbed me and killed everyone else who’d know. He brought all the survivors to the Dreadfort._

_My hands? The scars? It was him._

_At some point I think I started praying. I don’t even know who to. I had escaped with Kyra - you remember Kyra? - and his hounds caught her and I was leaning against a heart tree, I think, and I thought,_ please let me get a chance to get this right I never wanted it _or something like that and -_

_And then I was like that._

No one would believe such a story, except that the way Theon talks, it’s obvious he’s not lying, not when he’s _crying_  as he says it, and when Robb saw him _change in front of him_ , good gods.

And then -

_If you want to take my head, you have every right_.

_But I need you to know - it’s not just Lord Bolton or the Freys or the Lannisters. They’re plotting with your wife’s mother, too._

Robb thinks he’ll see if that story holds up, before taking Theon’s head.

–

It does hold up.

He finds enough letters confirming it in Lady Sybelle’s room.

He thinks, _I could have died and brought an army and my mother and my uncle to a slaughter_.

He feels so sick he could throw up, and he _knows_  that he’s not going to take Theon’s head.

–

He doesn’t know what to expect when Jeyne asks to see Theon, the moment after Robb tells her that _no_ , the fact that he’ll have to most likely exile her mother or keep her prisoner doesn’t mean he wants to annul the wedding, he never could.

He brings her to the room Theon’s currently staying in - Robb wishes he could let him go about the castle as he liked, but it’s not a good idea in the current climate. Theon doesn’t look at her when she comes in, but then she puts a hand to the side of his face and makes it so that he _has_  to look at her, and -

“I can’t believe she’d do that to me,” she says, low enough that Robb can barely hear. “Or that she tried to - to make sure I would _not_  have children, but - if you hadn’t - _thank you.”_

_“_ I didn’t -” Theon starts. She doesn’t let him finish and throws her arms around his shoulders.

Robb smiles and closes the door - they should probably discuss that on their own but it’s - good, that _this_  is how it’s shaping up to be.

–

It’s been years by now.

People - as in, most of his bannermen - still ask him how he didn’t take Theon Greyjoy’s head for what he did to Winterfell.

Robb knows that they _don’t_  know how exactly he ever ended up at Riverrun - the official story they fed them is that he ran from the Dreadfort. It’s not even untrue. Robb replies that he has proved all over that he regretted it, he actively helped with finding his siblings again and he probably wouldn’t be alive if not for him, so he could definitely spare his life as far as he was concerned.

Then again, they don’t understand how he hasn’t scorned his wife after finding out her mother was planning to have him killed, but the only good thing in being a thrice darned  _king_  is that at least he can do what he wants, can he?

They have no clue that usually, the door to his and Jeyne’s room opens slowly not long after they both have turned in for the night - Theon has his room in the same hallway, but he almost never sleeps there. They don’t know that by now they’re adjusted to this way of things that one of them just rolls over so that he can slip either next to one of them or in between - the latter happens when they notice that during the day he’s not exactly focused and seems to stare into nothing quite _some_ , but then again what do you expect after a couple of months at the Dreadfort with Ramsay Snow flaying off pieces of your skin just because he could?

Tonight, Jeyne is fast asleep and he isn’t when the door opens. Theon  _has_  spent more time than usual staring at nothing today, enough that  _Arya_  looked worried, and given how long it took her to come around to the idea that he _could_  be trusted, well, that’s saying it all. Robb doesn’t say a thing as he gets out of bed and waits for Theon to climb inside, and then follows him under the covers. He’ll be gone at dawn, he knows already, but better that no one sees them like _this_  or he’d have quite a lot to explain.

Jeyne mutters something in her sleep and turns on her side a bit, her slightly swollen stomach pressing against Theon’s back while one of her hands finds his hip blindly.

Robb buries a hand at the back of Theon’s neck as Theon’s forehead meets his shoulder and his breathing evens out.

He’s sure he’s not going to sleep much if at all tonight, but as he runs his fingers through Theon’s hair (and _now_  it’s silky and almost completely dark again), he decides that he’s thankful for the existence of whichever god granted for _this_  to happen. And if he smiles to himself just slightly the moment Theon makes a soft noise in his throat while Robb’s fingers press gently at his neck, well, no one has to know about either thing.

 

End.


End file.
